


touch the flames (and burn down everything)

by Lire_Casander



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alex Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of overdosing, mentions of a car accident, mentions of suicidal ideation, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: there’s a willow tree down in the fields, and everyone goes there to make a wish they want to come true
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	touch the flames (and burn down everything)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bellakitse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellakitse/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Stef!
> 
> When I asked (subtly and nicely, or so I'd like to think), you replied that you liked **tropes** , that your favorite movie is **_Dirty Dancing_** and then, to top it all, you asked me for the prompt _sweet dreams_ \+ Tarlos when I posted a list of [100 ways to say _I love you_](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/623204386798190592/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you).
> 
> Happy birthday, love! I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you. I hope you have a wonderful day and an amazing year ahead!

There’s a lake in the middle of the fields. The water is calm, and there’s always a soft breeze whispering across the grass, moving the branches of the old willow tree that casts a shadow over the glassy surface. TK loves going down there in the late hours of the afternoon, when the sun has begun to set but there’s still time until dusk. He loves sitting on the green grass, back pressed against the trunk of the old willow tree, with a book in his hands that he has promised himself he will finish soon — even if he’s still on page ninety-seven after four weeks, but he considers it progress. 

He also loves finding short notes written in neat handwriting, crumpled inside the cracks of the trunk, filled with words that speak of love and longing. 

He learned about the notes in the old willow tree the first day he set foot on campus, seven months ago. He had been lucky enough to secure a room at Jester Center, and his first roommate had told him all about the legends surrounding the place — from the old tales about ghosts in the most ancient buildings around to the romantic notes left in the trunk of a tree by the lake. TK had shaken his head at the words, because it sounded suspiciously like a copy of the letters to Juliet that have become a thing in old Verona. 

And yet, when he first came down to the lake to find a silent spot to read his book, he stumbled upon a couple of students folding sheets of paper and inserting them in the creaks. Upon asking — because TK might not be a believer but he is certainly curious — the other students told him that they hoped for their wishes to come true. Thatʼs how TK found out that the old willow tree was thought to be nothing short of magical — for generations the students left their notes with the hopes that the tree could turn their dreams into reality. 

For a New Yorker like him, that sounded almost hilariously silly, but TK isn’t about to break it to his friends in Austin. 

“I thought Iʼd find you here,” he hears at his back. TK smiles at the sound; he places the book on his lap and looks up. 

“Carlos! ” he greets enthusiastically. “When did you come back?” 

“Just half an hour ago,” the newcomer informs, flopping down beside TK. “The roads were a nightmare.” 

“I would have thought traffic in Texas was less chaotic than in Manhattan, but you guys prove me wrong every Sunday afternoon,” TK jokes. He’s met with a bright smile in return, and he feels his whole world lightning up at the sight. 

TK doesn’t really know when this started — when he stopped seeing Carlos as just his new roommate and he began developing feelings for him. But sometime between Carlos moving in on a Wednesday after TKʼs first roommate had to drop out of college and the moment they’re sharing right now, TK has fallen hard and fast for Carlos Reyes. 

He’s tried to hide it, and he thinks heʼs successful in that. At least, Carlos doesn’t seem to have noticed anything different, and thatʼs all TK can hope for. 

“For someone who doesn’t really believe in romance,” Carlos jabs at him, “you surely spend an awful amount of time here.” 

“Itʼs quiet here,” TK explains to him. “Here is one of the few places where I don’t feel like everythingʼs grey.” 

“One day, you’ll have to tell me all about why you feel that down all the time, TK,” Carlos whispers. TK can see his eyes darting back to the trunk behind TK’s head, nervous and uptight like he has never seen Carlos.

“I’ll tell you when you guess my name correctly,” TK teases him. It’s been an inside joke between them and their friends — Marjan and Mateo have been close enough to the correct answer when they guessed his first name could be _Taylor_ , and Paul had simply shrugged it off, but Carlos is set to find out at any cost. It’s become a game for both of them, but Carlos has yet to guess right, and TK doesn’t want it to end too abruptly.

Carlos shakes his head slightly before allowing himself to get lost in the nature surrounding them. TK takes the opportunity to watch him — the rebel curl that has escaped the styling in the morning, the jaw that trembles slightly at the marvels around them, the eyes that widen to take in every single detail.

TK wishes Carlos would focus on him the way he focuses on the world around them.

But it’s a lost battle from the beginning — TK isn’t ready for whatever he’s feeling about his roommate, who moved into Jester Center two and a half months after classes started, because he’s got his own sins to atone for. He has enough trauma for himself, and he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his problems. So he can’t allow himself to have hope, and he can’t allow Carlos to get too close, even if he already considers his roommate as his best friend.

They stay in comfortable silence for long moments, watching the sun setting down in the horizon, before Carlos starts to move restlessly by TK’s side.

“Cʼmon,” Carlos urges him, getting to his feet once again and stretching a hand toward TK. “Mom has sent her tamales, and you know they taste better the same day.” 

“Your momʼs tamales arenʼt something I can refuse!” TK exclaims, taking Carlosʼ hand without thinking. The moment their skins touch, TK feels a jolt of electricity coursing through him. 

Carlos nods, not letting go of TK. If anything, TK thinks he can feel Carlosʼ grip on his fingers tightening. They stand awkwardly for a few moments, TK fighting to keep his feelings from showing on his face, and Carlos staring into his eyes like heʼs searching for an answer to a question that hasnʼt been asked. 

“Letʼs go,” Carlos finally says, clearing his throat. 

TK follows him, his book in one hand, the other still linked to Carlos. He feels a blush creeping up his neck; he ducks his head to hide it, but he doesn’t let go of Carlosʼ hand. 

When they reach Jester Center, theyʼre still holding hands.

* * *

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” TK is reciting as he pops the last of the popcorn into his mouth, the movie playing out on the laptop almost finished. “God, I love this movie!” 

“I can tell,” Carlos calls him out on that from the bathroom, where he’s gone to wash his hands for a second. Since it was going to be a short visit, heʼs told TK not to stop the movie. 

He leans into the frame to watch TK intently staring into the screen. Carlos loves nights like this one — slow and familiar, getting to do something he enjoys with someone heʼs grown to care about so much. He knows he canʼt fool himself for much longer, but he wishes he could feign indifference around TK. 

The truth is that he isn’t sure he ever was indifferent to those big green eyes that look into his soul and bare it with a blink. 

“Are they dancing already?” he asks, moving fast toward the bed theyʼre sharing while they watch the film. It’s his favorite part of the whole movie, along with listening to Patrick Swayze singing _She’s Like The Wind_ — getting to watch them dancing around a stage and giving the audience the best dance move of all times. 

He might have been a tad too intense while talking about it with Michelle, and he suspects with TK too, but TK has been way nicer about that than Michelle. 

“Cʼmere,” TK motions for him to sit down. “Heʼs going to pick her up!” 

Carlos manages to claim his spot beside TK in time to see Patrick and Jennifer skidding along the floor. He feels TK leaning in, until his head is on top of Carlosʼ shoulder, and he canʼt help the small smile fighting its way on his face. Although he thinks it wouldn’t be refused, he refrains from intertwining his fingers with TKʼs, even though they have already held hands. 

Carlos doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. Heʼs too busy trying to figure out if TK is being overly friendly or he wants something else — something deeper. 

Ever since the first time he landed eyes on TK, three months after college classes had started, Carlos had known he would become a mess for TK Strand. TK had been anything but nice to the latino guy who had showed up on a Wednesday, taking up the space left by a drop out, with one black eye and his pride as bruised as his knuckles. 

Carlos hasnʼt told the whole story to anyone, not yet, and he doubts he ever will. He’s explained bits and pieces to his therapist, Michelle Blake, who was recommended to him as part of his recovery scheme — learn to accept himself the way his father has never done, and keep going, never looking back at his past. Nobody needs to know that he spent a whole month at the hospital after trying to take his own life — nobody needs to know that a fight with his father because of his sexuality ended up with Carlos slamming his father’s car into a bridge and totaling it. 

“I fucking love that movie,” TK declares when the credits roll down. “Itʼs perfect! The way they dance and how they fight. Just—amazing.” 

“Itʼs a fairy tale after all,” Carlos dares to say. “Love wins. Hatred is defeated. Sadly, real life isn’t that way.” 

He’s thinking about the boy he was at thirteen, when he realized he wasnʼt like the other boys — when he realized he _watched_ the other boys instead of the girls. He’s thinking about how hope destroyed his whole life years later, when he came out to his family only to find out that his father had always been some kind of hypocrite who would rather have a dead son than a gay one. 

“Love conquers everything, Carlos,” TK retaliates seriously. “I am really sorry that you donʼt feel thatʼs true, but you will realize how wrong you are one day.” 

Carlos shakes his head, standing up from the bed. He picks up the laptop and places it on his own desk. He’s making his way to his own mattress when he feels soft fingers deftly wrapping around his biceps. 

“Are you okay, Carlos?” TK asks, squeezing his arm. “Sorry if I said something inappropriate. Iʼm definitely not one to give advice about love.” 

There’s a sadness clouding TKʼs emerald eyes that takes over Carlosʼ soul when he looks down at his roommate. He wishes he could be the one to bring happiness back to TK, but even if he doesn’t know the gist of TKʼs past — he doesn’t want to ask questions that could easily be fired back at him — Carlos knows that the only way to get over the past is by actively wanting to. Until TK is ready to let go, there’s nothing anyone can do to help him. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to help Carlos. 

“Itʼs late,” Carlos says. He isn’t strong enough to keep staring into those eyes without giving into the temptation to lean in, and that would be a disaster of epic proportions. “I have an early Psych class tomorrow. I should head to bed.”

TK nods as he takes his hand off Carlos. He feels the absence immediately — the lack of warmth that canʼt really be considered cold, the imprint of fingertips on his skin — and it takes a lot of effort from his part not to wail and beg for TK to allow him to just be _touched_. 

“Good night, TK,” he whispers as he reaches his bed and jumps onto it without changing into his pajamas or even opening the covers. 

“Sweet dreams, Carlos,” TK wishes him. 

But Carlos only has nightmares and stressful dreams — moments when he loses TK in the most horrible ways imaginable, bits of sequences where he is swept away by the same force that made the car collide against a concrete wall.

> He’s walking through the door on his first day at Jester Center. He knows what he looks like — a jock who’s fought his way into the building, with his black eye and his busted lip. He’s carrying one single box, because he didn’t have that much left to bring with him after his father threw it all out the window. He doesn’t know what to expect.
> 
> He surely wasn’t expecting to be met with light green eyes that dive into his soul and the warmest of smiles.
> 
> “Hello, you must be Carlos Reyes,” the boy says, stretching out his hand. “I’m TK Strand. Welcome to UT.”
> 
> “Oh, thanks,” he stutters. 
> 
> “That all you have?” TK asks, his smile fading into a lopsided smirk. “Let me help you. That must have hurt,” he adds, signalling his face.
> 
> “You have to see the other guy,” Carlos manages to joke, eliciting a laugh out of TK.
> 
> “I’m sure he’s way worse,” TK jokes back, picking the box and placing it on the bed next to the window. “Any plans for tonight? I thought we could watch a movie, bond a little.”
> 
> Carlos nods, but when he moves to kick off his shoes and get comfortable before TK plays whatever movie he’s chosen, the scenery changes.
> 
> And then he’s once again driving his father’s car, but this time he isn’t alone inside. This time TK is right beside him, no seatbelt, while the car reaches full speed without Carlos touching any pedal. He tries to push the brakes, but the car sounds as though it’s broken, and he can’t stop it from approaching a black concrete wall. All he can do is brace himself and pray.

He wakes up covered in sweat and with a scream on the tip of his tongue. When he looks over at the other bed, he notices with relief that TK hasn’t even budged in his sleep. Carlos hastily tugs at the sheets until he’s covered up to his chin, hiding his shivers to the world as he allows the tears to fall down.

Whenever he has nightmares, they are all the same — he reminisces of the moment when he met TK for the first time, of his dimples and his eyes and his smile, only to turn into an ugly version of his own hell, topped with TK joining him in the shitshow that accident had been.

Only it hadn’t been an accident. 

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he is a failure.

Maybe he’s not deserving of love, and not even the ghost of a hand in his is enough to uproot the lies his father has planted in his mind, no matter what Michelle tells him. But how he craves being able to hold that hand and caress that skin for as long as TK allows him to.

* * *

TK is having a rough night. From time to time, he wakes up in the middle of the night covered in sweat and shivering wildly. It hasnʼt happened for a while now, though. But tonight, the nightmares are recurrent — he keeps watching himself opening the white lid on the orange bottle, he keeps watching as Alex encourages him to _finish just one damned thing in your life, TK_ , and he can’t stop himself from making the decision that could have ended everything.

He can’t take it anymore after the third time he wakes up with a scream on the tip of his tongue and a bead of sweat running down his back.

He gets out of the bed as silently as he can, and tiptoes his way to the bathroom they share with another room. He splashes some water on his face, and stares at his reflection on the mirror. TK is greeted by an ashen face and trembling lips — the tale-telling signs of the beginning of a panic attack. 

The door creaks open. 

“TK, are you alright?” Carlos asks from the threshold. “I heard you getting out.” 

“Iʼm fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Go back to sleep, Carlos. Iʼll be back in a minute.”

“You don’t look _fine_ to me, TK,” Carlos insists, stepping into the bathroom. In the few months that they’ve shared a dorm room, TK has learned that there’s no way they could respect boundaries within each other — they’re always in each other’s personal space, soft touches and quiet words whenever they have the chance. TK has never felt uneasy whenever Carlos is around, but he can’t share this with him.

He can’t share this with _anyone_.

He can’t tell Carlos — or anyone in Texas really — that the real reason why he switched colleges last minute and traded NYC for UT wasn’t that he wanted a bit of fresh air and a new start right after high school. He can’t tell anyone about Alex and the horrible months of abuse that ended up with a story about cheating and an overdose that almost cost TK his own future.

He can’t put that pressure on someone he _loves_ so much, and it hits TK then, that he’s fallen for Carlos in the five months that they’ve known each other — he’s fallen for the wild curls in the mornings and the wide eyes that follow his every move whenever he’s making coffee. He’s fallen for the family tamales Carlos brings back every Sunday after visiting his mother. He’s fallen for the late-night talks and sharing popcorn over a movie playing on Carlos’ laptop.

He’s fallen for someone so bright that he makes TK’s gray world burst into a rainbow of light colors.

TK knows he doesn’t deserve that. He knows he doesn’t deserve Carlos, and that’s why he can’t let himself have his hopes up — there’s no chance that someone like Carlos Reyes could fall for such a disaster like TK Strand. But Carlos has already proved that he’s willing to share some of TK’s burden, if only TK allowed him to.

TK isn’t ready to let anyone in, as much as he’d love to believe that Carlos might feel the same way. Love has only brought him pain, and lately he’s had enough time to reflect on his past actions, and he’s come to the same conclusion every single time — Carlos would never want anyone as messed up as TK.

But then Carlos is right there, holding him as he tries his best to get a grip and not wail in the middle of a shared bathroom, but that’s exactly what happens when Carlos’ hand touches his arm in a caressing way that sets TK off. He begins crying, hot tears running down his face, and he slides to the floor. Carlos doesn’t let go of him — if anything, his fingers tighten around TK’s slightly smaller frame.

“Everything will be alright,” Carlos mutters as he brings TK closer to him, until he’s resting his head on Carlos’ chest, his steady heartbeat calming TK in ways nothing has ever done before — not even the pills he took on taking during his last year at high school.

TK clings to Carlos as though his roommate is his lifeline — and maybe he is.

“Can I tell you a story?” Carlos questions, and it’s rhetorical because TK doesn’t really have it in himself to either refuse or accept the offer. Carlos waits for a breath, and then continues. “You know the legend about the willow tree, right? How the tree will grant you any wish you write down on a note, so long as it comes from your heart? Well, I really, really hope it’s true, because I wrote down my wish and I need for it to come true.”

TK nods slightly against Carlos, listening to his voice as he retells the tale of how the willow tree has been here forever, how everyone who’ve got their wishes granted are inherently happier than they were before, how those wishes don’t have to be specifically romantic but they can also focus on other things life has to offer — success in their exams, health for their loved ones, happiness all along.

Carlos’ voice soothes TK in ways he never thought could be possible — like raindrops on a window during a storm.

After what feels like an eternity, TK’s breathing stops coming out in quivering gasps, so he decides to move and sit up on the tiled floor. “Thanks,” he mutters. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Bad nightmare?” Carlos questions, searching in TK’s eyes for something TK can’t give him. 

“Sort of,” he replies.

“What do you say, we go back to the room and try to sleep? We still have a few hours before the alarms blast off.”

TK can only nod and accept Carlos’ hand as he offers it to get off the floor. Once again, he’s taken aback by the warmth oozing from just that touch. It feels as though TK could hold that hand forever and never get tired of it.

When they make their way back to the room, Carlos helps TK back into his bed but stands awkwardly beside it when TK is finally leaning into his pillow. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it surely isn’t Carlos shuffling by his bedside like he’s waiting for something unpleasant to happen. And maybe it’s the after-effects of the aborted panic attack, or the hope rising in his chest, but TK wants to be selfish for a second and make a move that’s only for himself, because he doesn’t think he will have a chance like this in his life, and even if it’s a bad idea he needs to know what it feels like to be held by Carlos for a little longer.

He smiles softly at Carlos, drained from his efforts to stop the panic attack that quickly dissolved into just tears when Carlos showed up, and whispers, “I need to ask a favor from you.”

“Anything,” Carlos is quick to reply. TK nods.

“Could you, uh, lie here with me?” TK asks. “It, uhm, it helps after a nightmare? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just, I’m sorry I even brought it up—”

But Carlos is already sitting on the mattress and kicking off his slippers, his side pressing against TK’s as he finds the right spot to place his head. “I said anything, and I meant it, TK. Even if you won’t tell me your name,” he adds with a soft laugh. “We’re friends, TK. You _are_ my best friend. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” TK murmurs as he gets closer to Carlos, seeking the same calming sound from his heartbeat. He curls his fingers around Carlos’ sleeping t-shirt and lets out a small sigh. “You’re mine, too.”

“Sweet dreams, TK,” Carlos says, fingers carding through TK’s hair as though they belong there. 

“Thanks,” TK manages to get out before falling asleep to the lullaby of Carlos’ beating pulse under his ear.

* * *

Carlos rubs at his eyes as he tries his best not to fall asleep on top of the magazine heʼs feigning to read in the waiting room for Dr. Blakeʼs office. It’s been a tough week, what with the lack of sleep and the long hours spent away from his room because heʼs been trying to give TK space. 

After the nightmare episode, Carlos had felt a surge of hope inside of himself. When TK had asked him to lie in the same bed to sleep — not just temporarily to watch some movie — heʼd been thrilled. He’s been harboring a huge crush on TK, and getting to share some more intimate moments is all heʼs wanted. But then TK had started to talk in his sleep, and heʼd started calling someone with a fond voice, and that someone hadnʼt been Carlos. 

It had been someone called _Alex_ , and Carlos had felt like an idiot for thinking someone like TK could fall for someone like him — that someone like TK could be single long enough to even lay eyes on someone like Carlos. So he’s chosen to get up earlier in the mornings to spend his days in a secluded spot at the library, and to come back to the dorms as late as he could. That, paired up with his inability to sleep while thinking TK most probably doesn’t give a single damn about Carlos’ feelings.

“Mr. Reyes?” the nurse calls his name in a bored tone, and Carlos is shaken out of his thoughts. He stands up and enters the office.

“Carlos,” Dr. Blake greets him with a soft smile. “I’m glad you could make it during your pre-exams week.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says sincerely. Talking to Michelle Blake since he came to Austin has been the only light in his life — apart from TK’s presence every day.

This takes him to the reason why he’s been willing to talk to Dr. Blake today when he usually is reluctant to attend his appointments.

“How has this week been, Carlos?”

“Truly awful,” he finds himself saying. Dr. Blake arches an eyebrow, but she doesn’t say a thing. Instead, she motions for him to relax in his chair and begin talking. It’s been an unspoken tradition between them — whenever Carlos has had a horrible time in his head, she won’t say a thing and allow him to tell his story at his own pace. That’s why he likes talking to her — that, and the incredibly good advice she usually gives him, even if he doesn’t like what he hears sometimes.

But today, he isn’t sure where to start. All of a sudden, his fears and nerves from before seem childish and petty. “It’s really silly,” he starts. “I haven’t been sleeping well these days.”

“How so?”

Carlos thinks about how he’s been trying to avoid his roommate for five days now because he doesn’t want to impose — because he’s let his own insecurities take over — and he chooses to tell his story as plainly as possible. He needs the expert and objective eye of a bystander.

Forty-five minutes later, he’s out of the office with a new appointment for next week and Michelle Blake’s words still ringing in his ears — _you can’t be sure of how your actions and words affect others unless you talk to them, the same way they can’t be sure about how theirs affect you unless they talk to you_. The keyword has been _communication_ for the past five months, and one that Carlos has been too scared to put into action when it comes to TK.

He’s afraid of how much of himself he might be giving up if TK Strand doesn’t feel the same way.

Carlos decides to go to the cafeteria for a treat when he checks his wristwatch and finds out he still has a couple of hours until it’s safe for him, under his new rules, to go back to his dorm room. The place is packed when he sets one foot in it; with a sigh, he joins the long queue when his ringtone blasts from his pocket.

“Hello?” he says into the microphone as he picks up the phone. 

“Carlos, it’s Paul.” 

He freezes on his spot in the line of the cafeteria. Paul Strickland is one of TKʼs best friends in school — a transfer from Chicago whoʼs known for being extremely sensitive to his surroundings. They have spoken a few times, and exchanged phone numbers out of politeness, but itʼs not like theyʼre close friends. 

This means somethingʼs up with TK. 

Carlos swallows around the sudden lump in his throat before replying, “Paul, is anything wrong with TK?” 

“I donʼt think so, but Iʼd rather talk to you in person. Can we meet right now?” 

Carlos nods even though he knows Paul wonʼt be able to see him. “Yeah, of course. Iʼm at the cafeteria.” 

“Could you pick a cafe latte for me?” Paul asks. “I think weʼre going to need caffeine for this conversation.” 

Carlos hangs up and moves in the line until he reaches the cashier. He orders Paulʼs coffee and some tea for himself — TKʼs influence has planted a seed in his psyche, and now Carlos kind of likes the boba place they hang out at sometimes. When heʼs done, he turns around to find a table for them, and he spots Paul standing awkwardly next to a couple of chairs close to the exit. He walks toward Paul and offers him his coffee before even greeting him. 

“How did you know something was up with TK?” Paul asks right after he sits down, the chair scratching the floor loudly. 

“Huh?” Carlos blinks at him. Heʼs nervous; he doesn’t know whatʼs wrong, but he doesn’t want to sound too eager..

“You asked me what was wrong with TK,” Paul explains. “I hadnʼt even told you why I was calling you.” 

“To be honest, I think itʼs the first time youʼve called me,” Carlos tells him. “Sure weʼve hung out and stuff when TK was around, but I didnʼt think we were at a stage where we called each other.” 

Paul chuckles. “I think I havenʼt done my job right then,” he laughs, but it sounds forced. “I should have given you the shovel talk months ago, but I thought that was seriously outdated, and I didn’t think youʼd hurt TK.” 

Carlos almost spits his tea all over Paul. “Hurt TK? The shovel talk? What the actual fuck are you talking about, Strickland?” 

Paul drops his coffee mug on the table with a loud _cling_ and stares right into Carlosʼ eyes. “Iʼm talking about how you ghosting TK has driven him crazy these past days. Iʼm talking about how heʼs right now at the willow tree for the fifth time in so many days, trying to muster up the courage to wish for some way to ease his pain. Iʼm talking about how heʼs dragged me and Mateo and Marjan down there every day.” 

“Ghosting him? I am _not_ ghosting him!” Carlos defends himself indignantly. “Iʼve been busy, and itʼs not like weʼre dating or anything, there’s no way I could ghost—” 

“Cut that shit, Reyes,” Paul interrupts him. “I still think youʼre a good guy, but you keep messing up with TK. Heʼs told us youʼve been avoiding him for days now. Heʼs _destroyed_. And I know for a fact that you like him, so I don’t understand why so suddenly you decide to stop hanging out with him.” 

“You know for a fact? You know for a fact!” Carlos repeats. His words come out breathy and surprised. He feels his skin burning up, and hopes he isn’t blushing too violently. When Paulʼs gaze doesn’t waver, he relents and drops his head. “Does he know?” 

“Do you really have to ask me if TK knows you like him?” Paul chuckles again. “Heʼs the most oblivious guy I have ever met! Of course he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us havenʼt noticed, or that he isn’t feeling down because youʼve been acting like a stranger for a week.” 

Carlos sighs. He doesn’t really have an explanation to give Paul that doesn’t leave himself looking like a douchebag. How does he say to one of TKʼs best friend that heʼs jealous of someone he hasnʼt even met? 

“He was dreaming the other night,” he finally settles for saying. “Heʼd been having nightmares, and then he kinda fell asleep and began muttering that name over and over, and I thought—I thought I had no chance.” 

“Which name?” Paul asks with what sounds like sympathy in his voice. 

“Alex.” 

“Alex, huh? So, youʼre afraid TKʼs falling for someone called Alex when heʼs done nothing but praise you all the time for the past five months?” 

Carlos shoots him a dirty look. 

“Itʼs the truth, Reyes. He’s going down to the lake every day to stare at the water and try to get some courage to write down his wish, and youʼre here being either a jerk or a coward.” 

“Iʼm not a jerk.” 

“Then youʼre a coward,” Paul states, matter-of-factly. “I get that youʼre scared, Reyes. I know Iʼd be. But TK and you are a good team. You’ll regret it if you donʼt take this leap of faith.”

With that, Paul stands up and walks past him, squeezing his shoulder as he goes out the door. 

“Strickland!” he calls out. He waits until Paul turns around, a knowing look in his eyes. “The willow tree?” 

Paul nods, and Carlos exhales. “Of course,” he mutters to himself. “Of fucking course.” 

He canʼt believe heʼs been such a blind fool, but now, with the seed of hope that Paul has planted in his heart, Carlos knows exactly what he needs to do.

* * *

“This is a stupid idea,” TK mutters to himself as he stands in front of the willow tree with a notebook in his hand. He’s alone in the field — Marjan and Mateo are currently sharing milkshakes and fries over at the picnic area, and Paul has classes today. Of course, there’s no way TK is going to ask Carlos to come with him and do something as silly as leaving a note inside the trunk of the willow tree.

Despite his initial doubts, he’s come here every day since his last nightmare with the notebook in his hand, ready to write down some lines and stuff the ripped-off paper into the tree, but for some reason he hasn’t been able to. The first few times Marjan, Mateo and Paul came along, but after a while it became obvious he was getting cold feet every single time, so they gave up on him. And now he’s alone in front of the willow tree, the sun setting slowly in the horizon just like the last time he was here with Carlos, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

They haven’t talked much after waking up the morning after his nightmare, with TK’s head on top of Carlos’ chest. It’s been five days and TK has yet to go to bed after Carlos comes back to their room or to wake up to Carlos’ mop of black curls peeking out of the covers in his bed. It feels like Carlos has been avoiding TK like the plague, and TK hasn’t had the heart to confront him.

Facing Carlos would mean facing his own feelings — facing the disappointment and the heartbreak that would come with the words he doesn’t want to hear. 

With a sigh, TK flops down to the ground and rests his back against the trunk of the tree. His head hits the wooden surface lightly when he leans back and opens the notebook. His fingers shake a bit when he fishes for a pen in his front pocket, but his pulse is steady when he applies the tip to the sheet and begins scratching words out.

_~~I wish for~~ _

No.

_~~A normal life~~ _

No.

_~~Someone to love who loves me back~~ _

No.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he hears at his back, and it feels strangely like a déjà-vu. Only this time he doesn’t look up. TK stubbornly keeps his head down, forcing out words that aren’t more than a string of nonsense on a white sheet of paper. “TK?”

“Go,” he barks out. He is surprised at his own hoarseness because he didn’t plan for his voice to come out so curt. “After all, that’s what you do best.”

“TK,” Carlos says, squatting until his eyes are leveled with TK’s. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t believe you have the guts to ask _me_ that!” TK explodes. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague!”

“And that’s why you came here to write a note for the tree?”

TK grunts. He lowers his head again and mumbles something that isn’t intended to be heard, but clearly Carlos has got the memo for he asks, “What was that?”

“I said,” TK repeats in a higher voice, “I came here to be alone.”

“If you wanted to be alone, then why did you ask Mateo and Marjan and Paul to come with you these days?”

“How did you know that? You’ve barely been around this past week!” TK screeches out, disturbing a bird that has flown nearby. 

“Paul called me,” Carlos replies. He shakes his head bashfully. “He said you had been coming here to stare at the water, but I knew there was something else. He also said to stop being a dick.”

TK chuckles humorlessly. “He’s right, as always.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Carlos sighs, running a hand over his face and burying it in his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand,” TK tells him. “You could have told me that I was being too intense.”

“It isn’t that,” Carlos shakes his head. “Can I sit down?” When TK acquiesces, Carlos takes a spot next to him and stares right ahead into the water. For a moment they remain silent, but then Carlos whispers, “I was scared. I still am, TK. I thought—I thought there was something going on and then—then you got that nightmare and—”

“And you thought I was being too much,” TK finishes for him. “You could have said something, Carlos. I thought we were friends. I thought we had reached a point where you could tell me when to back off.”

“You said another guy’s name in your dreams that night!” Carlos exclaims, shaking his head. “For a moment, when we held hands that day right here, I thought I had a chance but then you almost had a panic attack and then I tried to comfort you and I thought I had managed that and then you just—you just whispered _Alex_ over and over and—”

“Alex?” TK almost yells. “Alex is my _ex_ , Carlos! Thatʼs why you decided to ignore me? Because of my fucking _ex_?” 

Carlos looks down at him pointedly, as if TK is missing something here, but when TK doesn’t relent in his staring, Carlos sighs and attempts to offer an explanation, but he comes up short and ends up opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of the water. 

“Listen, TK,” he settles for saying. “Imagine the same situation, but backwards. Imagine it was me saying another guy’s name over and over. How would you have felt?”

TK shakes his head. He can’t believe he’s been so blind, that he’s allowed his past to come between one of the best friendships he’s ever had — a friendship that could even be something more, if he’s able to focus on what Carlos _isn’t_ saying.

He realizes he’s been silent for a moment too long when Carlos clears his throat as if expecting he retaliates.

“We had a bad break up,” TK finally confesses. “Like, nuclear bad. The kind of bad that ends up in dark alleys and buying Oxy from strangers.” 

“Are you—Did you try—” 

“I did,” TK confirms, looking down at his hands. He knows his therapist back in New York and his father would be so proud of him right now. “I wanted everything to stop hurting when I learned he had been cheating on me.” 

Carlos’ grip on his arm tightens, and TK is forced to look up at him at once. He can see the glistening of tears in Carlos’ eyes, and he has to fight the urge to wipe them. “Carlos? he whispers.

“I’m so sorry, TK,” Carlos finally tells him. His voice is quavering, and TK can see how much effort it’s taking him to speak. “But you are not alone. It’s okay to struggle, you know? I’ve learned that the hard way.”

“How so?”

“Because you and I—we’re not so different TK,” Carlos stutters. “My father, let’s just say he isn’t really accepting of me. So, one day when I was so tired of always feeling _not enough_ , I stole his car and crashed it into a wall.”

TK shakes his head in disbelief at Carlos’ words. “Did you want for the pain to stop?”

Carlos simply nods, one tear sliding down his cheek. TK finds enough courage in himself to lift one hand and caress Carlos’ skin, accompanying the tear instead of wiping it. “I’m so sorry you went through that. But I’m glad you made it through.”

Carlos squeezes his arm, sending a wave of warmth up TK’s skin. “I’m sorry it was that awful for you too. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” TK laments as he tries to furiously wipe at his eyes that have welled up all of a sudden. “I never told you anything about it.”

“You didn’t trust me,” Carlos whispers. “It’s okay. We weren’t even friends when I landed in Jester Center, and I didn’t make the best first impression.”

“Coming in so many weeks late, with one black eye and not talking to anyone?” TK laughs wetly. “Yeah, not that good an impression, but I still liked you. I didn’t even know your truth, and you didn’t know mine, but I still liked you.”

“And I liked you,” Carlos tells him, all serious. “I _like_ you.”

“Do you?” TK whispers, looking up at him.

“I thought that was obvious, Captain Oblivious.”

“I can’t believe it,” he chuckles. “I can’t believe all the time we’ve wasted.” 

TK lets out a scoffed laugh that takes over Carlos’ attention. Soon enough, he’s coming down with a fit of nervous laughter that he can’t control, and it quickly turns into tears as he begins crying. Carlos just stares shocked down at him, as though debating whether or not TK has lost his mind.

TK thinks he might have.

“What was your wish?” TK questions out of the blue. “Last time we really talked, you mentioned having come here to make a wish. What was it?”

Carlos doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches behind TK and picks up something from inside the tree. When he offers it to TK, he can see it’s a blue sheet with some words scribbled down. “You can read it yourself.”

TK grabs the paper and unfolds it, wondering how on Earth it could have been so close to the surface, and how Carlos has been able to spot it among the other notes. He begins to read, and feels himself blushing as he does so.

 _I wish for_ , is written in Carlos’ neat handwriting, so different from TK’s. _I wish for TK to look at me the way I look at him, for him to love me the way I love him._

This time, TK doesn’t lift his hand to dry his cheeks. This time, he feels a soft hand creeping up his skin and a thumb caressing his cheek, rubbing the sadness away. When he looks up, he meets beautifully warm brown eyes staring down at him with so much love that he almost can’t bear it.

“What’s yours?” Carlos whispers in such a tiny voice that TK is sure he wouldn’t have heard him if they weren’t as close as they currently are.

He doesn’t have to read the paper now forgotten in his lap to know what he has written — what he’s wanted his whole life.

“I want to be happy,” he murmurs.

“Let me make you happy,” Carlos whispers, and this time he’s so close that TK can breathe him in. “That’s all I’ve wanted for so long but I—I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Uhm, Carlos,” TK tells him sagely. “I’d daresay I’m a little bit _too much_ interested.” He nudges his nose against Carlos’ and laughs.

He realizes he’s been laughing more in the last few minutes than he has in his whole life prior to coming to Austin. The realization is short-lived, though, for Carlos is diving in and claiming TK’s mouth in a bruising kiss that, surprisingly, soothes TK’s soul.

It doesn’t last long — TK’s smiling too wide for the kiss to be anything but short and sweet — but when they part, both are panting slightly. TK buries his face in Carlos’ skin, smelling his unique scent.

“Tyler Kennedy,” TK mutters against Carlos’ neck, mouthing the words into the olive skin. 

“Huh?”

“Tyler Kennedy,” he repeats, louder. “That’s my full name.”

Carlos pulls him closer to his chest with a loud laugh, and holds him there as he kisses the top of TK’s head. TK cuddles up to him, still sitting with half his back against the trunk of the willow tree and sighs.

He thinks the tree might be magical, for he hasn’t felt happier in his whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> This took a dark turn somehow, and I'm sorry because I promised fluff!
> 
> Title from _Favorite Place_ by All Time Low. Beta'ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly). Also, a big thanks to [terramous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terramous) for pointing me into the right direction with the title!
> 
> Anyway, you can always find me [over at tumblr](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/)


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